Small Beginnings
by mgowriter
Summary: Five scenes from their early years that change Nate and Sully's relationship.
1. Trust

**Trust**

* * *

><p>"Sully."<p>

He stirred, clinging on to the soothing webs of sleep.

"Sully, wake up."

There was a gentle tap on his shoulder, then a more vigorous shake.

"Sully, I know you can hear me."

He reluctantly opened one eye. A dark figure stood next to his bed, enclosed by the shadows of early morning. He had known the kid for less than a month, but could pick out his silhouette easily from a lineup.

"Nate," Sully said groggily. "It's still dark outside. Go back to bed."

"It's Sunday," said Nate, with too much enthusiasm.

"All the more reason to go back to sleep." Sully closed his eyes and turned his back to the younger man.

"The sun's going to come up any minute. We should get to the shooting range before it gets too hot."

Nate leaned into the space directly above Sully's head. "I cleaned all the guns. They're ready to go."

A couple of seconds passed, before he spoke again. "Sully?"

Sully sighed with exaggeration. "Okay, okay. I'm up. Let me get dressed and make breakfast."

"Breakfast can wait. We should get going."

Sully slowly sat up in bed. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked out the window. The grey lights of early dawn had just begun to tinge with yellow outside. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been up early enough to see the sun rise.

Nate stood patiently beside his bed, with an empty holster strapped to his side.

"Can I at least have some privacy to change?" he said.

"Hurry up," said Nate, as he exited the room.

. . .

The makeshift shooting range Sully constructed was more or less a cluster of glass bottles, aluminum cans, and whatever else he could find that was small enough for target practice.

After two Sundays of learning the basics, Nate had shown real talent with the .22 and 9mm pistols. Sully watched as he hit six cans in a row.

"Good job, kid. Make sure you're not letting yourself lean back after the shot."

Nate smiled in his direction. He refocused on a paper target, and hit it directly in the bull's-eye.

Sully crossed his arms. "Show off, huh? Wanna try on something bigger for size?" He unholstered the 44 magnum at his side.

Nate's eyes widened at the proposal. "Are you sure?"

"Come here," Sully motioned. "Now, this is going to have a much bigger kickback, so brace it with both hands."

Sully handed him the revolver and stood back. "See the green bottle about twenty yards out? Aim for that one."

Nate brought up the gun, aimed at the target, and fired. The revolver swung upward with the strong kickback, and the bullet completely missed.

Sully laughed. "It packs a punch, doesn't it?"

Nate was already lining up for the next shot. The bottle finally fell after the third, and he turned around with a big grin.

"You're becoming quite the sharpshooter," said Sully. "We might have to graduate to rifles soon."

Nate stared at him in complete seriousness. "You mean that?"

Sully laughed again. "One step at a time, kid. Let's go each breakfast first. I'm starving."

. . .

Nate's mouth watered at the sight of the food in front of him. After he agreed to move in with Sully, he had been regularly surprised at the quality and variety of meals that were prepared. Breakfast was his favorite, and the heaping plate full of eggs, bacon, and pancakes made his mouth water.

Sully filled two coffee mugs and joined him at the table. Nate raised his eyebrows at the offering.

"Decaf," Sully confirmed. "God help us if you start drinking caffeine. I don't think I'll ever sleep past dawn again."

Nate dug into the food with a smile. "It's really good," he said between enormous bites.

"Don't forget to chew," said Sully.

Nate ignored his words as he made his way through the rest of the plate.

Sully began to cut into his pancakes. "So there's something I want to talk to you about," he said.

"What's that?" Nate asked.

"I got a call from a guy I know in Peru. He's got a job that starts next week. I figure it's time to move on, after all that nasty business with Marlowe last month. What do you think?"

Nate stopped chewing . He swallowed hard.

"When are you leaving?"

"Soon, I guess. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after."

"Okay," said Nate in a much subdued voice. He took a sip of the coffee, but remained silent, staring down at his plate.

"So what do you think?" Sully asked.

Nate shrugged, trying to remain neutral.

Sully frowned at the sudden change in demeanor. "We can set up a shooting range anywhere, you know. We'll still practice every week."

Nate looked up with confusion. "You want me to come with you?"

Sully's frown deepened as he realized the meaning of Nate's words. "Of course you're coming with me. Did you think I was going to leave you here?"

Nate shrugged again. "It's happened before."

Sully set down his fork. "Kid, like it or not, we're partners now, and partners look out for each other. I have your back and you have mine. That's the way it works."

Nate stared at him in surprise.

"I'm going to call the guy and tell him to expect us by tomorrow afternoon, so you better start packing after we finish up here."

Sully reclaimed his utensils and dug into his pancakes. After a couple of bites, he looked up to see Nate had also resumed eating.

"Hey kid, are you gonna finish your bacon?"

Nate looked up with the beginnings of a smile. He placed a protective arm around his plate. "Don't even think about it."


	2. Loyalty

**Loyalty**

* * *

><p>The soft scratching of rock against cement was the only indication that time had not stood still in the small, bare room.<p>

Satisfied with the white line he had created, Nate blew away the dust particles and leaned back to view the grand picture. Fifteen white lines in a row stared back at him. Before he was transferred here, he had drawn seven white lines on another wall. He looked out the barred window of his mostly underground cell at a quarter moon. Tonight was his twenty-second night in a Peruvian prison—if he was in fact, still in Peru. The transfer happened at nighttime, while he was blindfolded and injected with a sedative. With the loss of an entire day, he could be anywhere, in a cement box, in the middle of the jungle.

He sat with his back against the cold wall and closed his eyes. He should've listened to Sully. He should've gone to the market, gotten the groceries, and come back home. Picking the policeman's pocket was the dumbest thing he had ever done.

. . .

Nate opened his eyes quickly at the sound of a pebble landing on the floor. Sleeping in prison had taught him how to wake up at an instant's notice.

Another pebble came through the window, this time landing close to his foot. He looked up through the opening. It was dark outside, sometime past midnight.

A man dressed in black appeared at the window. The moonlight reflected off his blue-grey eyes as he searched the cell below.

Nate jumped to his feet. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

"Sully?" he whispered.

Sully broke into a wide grin. "Yeah, it's me. Goddamn it's good to see you, kid. You have no idea how hard you've been to find."

Nate sucked in his breath. He hadn't lost hope, but it had been slowly slipping out of him with each passing day.

"I'm getting you out," said Sully.

"How?"

Sully reached into a pocket and pulled out a skeleton key that matched the one hanging from every guard's belt.

Nate caught the key before it landed on the floor.

"The guard will come check in on you in four minutes. When he leaves, use that to open the door, and meet me outside."

"But there are two other guards outside," said Nate.

"Let me worry about them," said Sully. "Remember, four minutes. I'll see you outside."

Sully turned his head quickly as the voices of the outside patrol guards neared, and disappeared into the night.

Nate stared at the window for a few seconds before resuming his seat against the wall, the key tucked carefully away inside his waistband.

He closed his eyes and waited, trying to keep his heart from racing. Did he just hallucinate that? Was Sully really outside his window? He touched the cool metal of the skeleton key twice to make sure it was still there.

The guard was right on time, making his routine rounds. Nate sat perfectly still, practicing slow and steady breaths. Satisfied with the prisoner's status, the guard walked slowly back the way he came.

Nate breathed a sigh of relief. He retried the key and quickly unlocked his cell through the long, iron bars. Quietly, he shuffled the short distance to the prison entrance and took a deep breath before opening the door.

Sully stood next to the unconscious bodies of the remaining guards.

"Come on kid, let's go."

After half an hour of hurrying through the thick jungle, they finally reached an old, rusted truck.

Sully breathed out a sigh of relief at the sight of the car. "I was beginning to think we got turned around somehow. I'm sure glad to see this piece of junk again."

Nate also stopped to catch his breath. He turned to Sully, and surprising both his mentor and himself, hugged the older man tightly.

After a couple of seconds, he felt Sully's hands around his shoulders, returning the hug.

"You okay, kid?" Sully asked.

Nate didn't respond. He squeezed his eyes tightly against the tears that threatened to spill.

"If they treated you badly, I have no problem hiring a couple of guys to hunt down the people that put you in there in the first place."

Nate shook his head. He pressed his face deeper into the fabric of Sully's shirt. He never thought he would miss the smell of cigar smoke so much.

"Tell me what's wrong," Sully tried again.

Nate forced his hands to unclench from Sully's side.

"I'm just…glad to see you. Thanks for coming back for me."

"Look, kid, I'm sorry it took so long. I got close to figuring out where you were, then they moved you to this new place. The two guards I approached from the first prison just so happened to be the only ones in Peru that wouldn't take a bribe, so I had to start over and do it the old fashioned way. When I finally traced you to this place, I had to scope out the patrol pattern for a night before I could make my move."

Nate nodded, absorbing his words.

"You sure you're okay?" Sully asked.

Nate nodded again.

"I don't need to put in an ad for thugs for hire?"

Nate smiled, and shook his head. "Let's go home."

"I was thinking the same thing," said Sully. "I've been working on something else while you were locked up. Look what I received in the mail today. Hot off the press."

Sully produced two documents from his pocket. Nate examined the items closely. They were a passport and birth certificate that both contained his name. He looked up at Sully.

"You think these can pass?"

"Made by the best in South America," said Sully. "At least that's their tagline. We'll see. It's the best quality I've seen in a long time."

"Where are we going?" Nate asked.

Sully grinned. "We're going _home_ home. Palm Bay, Florida. Beaches, palm trees, and women in skin-tight bikinis. What do you say?"

Looking at the man, Nate couldn't remember why he ever doubted Sully would come back for him.

"I can't wait," he said, returning the smile.


	3. Responsibility

**Responsibility**

* * *

><p>Sully fumbled for the keys in his front pocket. His breath puffed out in small, white clouds in the cold November night. Supporting himself against the doorframe, he managed to insert the key into the lock and make the correct maneuver. He shook his head to clear it. The whiskey had a stronger effect than he anticipated.<p>

"How long have you been in Montreal?" the woman to his right asked. Her name was Sugar, if he remembered correctly. She was dressed in black, fishnet stockings and a white fur coat.

"Not long enough," another woman answered from his left. Caramel, named for the color of her perfect skin. "This one still has a nice tan."

"About a week," Sully answered. "Flew in last Monday."

"On a private plane?" Sugar asked.

Sully nodded, preoccupied with the keys.

Caramel placed her arm around his shoulders. "What's the flight plan for tonight, handsome?"

Sully grinned. He unlocked the second lock and opened the door. "Ladies, welcome my humble abode. Temporarily, that is."

Sugar and Caramel strode into the foyer of the mansion. Both women shrugged off their winter coats, revealing skin-tight dresses underneath.

"Nice place," said Sugar. She leaned into Sully as she examined the overhead chandelier. "Where's the bedroom?"

Caramel appeared at his other side. "How about a hot bath first? This place must have a Jacuzzi that fits three."

"I think we can arrange that," Sully said as he escorted them down the hall.

As they reached the end of the hallway, the front door opened and shut forcefully, letting in a stream of the icy winter air.

"Who is that?" One of the girls asked.

Sully squinted at the approaching figure. He blinked to clear his vision.

"Where were you?" Nate's voice carried loudly down the hall.

"What do you mean?" Sully asked.

"Where have you been? Your meeting was this afternoon. What happened?"

Sully looked down at his watch. It was one in the morning.

"The deal went well, I ran into some ladies at the bar, and we were celebrating."

Sully looked back at the grand staircase, where Sugar and Caramel stood at seductive angles to the support beams.

Nate followed his gaze toward the two women. His face was red from the beating wind outside. It was apparent he had been in the harsh conditions for hours.

"You can't just do that," he said through clenched jaws.

"Do what?" Sully asked.

"Say you're going to be back and not show up."

"Nate," Sully began, but the younger man was already walking away, his expression mixed with anger and disgust.

"Now hold on a minute."

Nate continued to walk past the two women. Sully watched as he made his way up the staircase.

"Cute kid," said Sugar. "Is he old enough to have some sweets?"

Sully frowned at her words. He stood for a moment of indecision before pulling out his wallet. "Look ladies, I'm sorry, but we're gonna have to do this another time."

"Excuse me?" Caramel asked. "We bailed on our regulars to come to your private party."

Sully pulled out a couple of bills and split them between the two women. "I think that should cover it for your trouble."

The women exchanged looks before pocketing the money.

"I'll walk you to the door," Sully said as he ushered them towards the entrance.

Sugar reclaimed her coat. "Call us if you get lonely," she said, and blew a kiss before stepping outside.

Sully stared longingly behind them before closing the door. He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. "This is for something I did a long time ago, isn't it?"

He followed Nate's path to his quarters upstairs. As expected, the door was shut.

"Nate?" Sully tried through the door. There was no answer.

"I sent them home."

Sully sighed. "Look kid, I'm sorry for not checking in. I know you were worried. I'll try to remember next time."

There was still no sound from the other side.

"Okay, I won't try. I'll do it next time."

Another minute passed. Sully leaned against the wooden frame.

"So you're giving me the silent treatment? C'mon kid, open the door."

Silence greeted him again. He entertained the thought of searching around for a couple of paperclips to unlock the door, but realized it would take Nate even less time to slip out the window. If the kid didn't want to see him, there was little he could do to force the issue.

"Well I'm glad we talked." Sully stared at the door for another minute. Finally, he turned and admitted defeat.

"I'll see you in the morning," he said, before heading back down the stairs.


	4. Worry

**Worry**

Sully smiled as he sauntered up the brick driveway to the Mediterranean style house. A blast of cool air melted into the humid weather outside as he unlocked the door. Home sweet, air-conditioned home.

He set his luggage down at the door and kicked it shut.

"Hey kid, I'm home," he called out into the house.

Hearing no reply, Sully wandered over to the kitchen table and flipped through a week's worth of unopened mail. He peeked into an envelope with a return address from Caracas, and grinned at its contents. Everything was lining up perfectly for the job in Venezuela.

After uncapping a cold beer, Sully picked up his duffle bag to transport it upstairs. He looked down at his watch as he passed Nate's door. Two in the afternoon and the kid was still asleep.

Sully knocked a couple of times, without a reply. Quietly, he turned the handle and cracked the door open a couple of inches. The curtains inside were drawn, shrouding the room in darkness. Nate's body created a large lump under the sheets.

"Nate," Sully whispered. "Hey kid, time to wake up."

Nate grumbled something indecipherable. He turned his head away from the light.

Sully stepped closer to the bed.

"You will not believe what happened in Caracas. The contact that Cuervo set me up with was possibly the most gullible man I've ever met. He was practically volunteering information about the Fernandez mansion. It was like fishing from a barrel."

Nate remained silent.

"Aren't you hot under there?" Sully asked. He lifted the sheets. They were damp from sweat, but Nate was shivering underneath.

Frowning, Sully automatically placed his hand on Nate's forehead. He pulled back in surprise at the burning fever.

"What happened?" he asked. "I talked to you yesterday and you sounded fine."

"I haven't been feeling good," Nate mumbled groggily. A spasm of coughs caused him to sit up. "It's just…the flu."

With his teeth chattering, Nate grabbed the blanket and folded it around himself.

Sully hunted down a thermometer from the medicine cabinet of the bathroom down the hallway. After thirty seconds of waiting, the beep of the instrument confirmed the fever. The screen read 103.1.

"We're going to the hospital," he said, staring down at Nate with renewed worry.

Nate took the instrument out of his mouth. He tried to stifle another round of coughs.

"I'm okay. I just need to sleep it off."

"Yeah, and they just found a cure for cancer. We're going to the hospital."

Nate protested again.

"Tell you what kid, we'll go to the one on the other side of the city. Better food, better nurses. Remember that redhead from last time? What was her name? Something exotic, started with a 'Z.' We'll put in a request."

Sully didn't give Nate the option to decline, as he ushered him up. They made it down the stairs with Nate leaning heavily on him. The younger man's feverish skin burned against his own.

After struggling to buckle himself into the passenger seat, Nate accepted the help from Sully. He leaned his head back in exhaustion.

Sully walked around the car to the driver's seat. He wiped the look of alarm from his face as he turned to Nate.

"Ready?"

Nate nodded, without opening his eyes. They pulled out of the driveway and sped toward the emergency room.

. . .

Sully stirred as he felt the warmth of a blanket over his body. He opened his eyes to see a woman in scrubs leaning over him to adjust the edges. She had delicate, petite hands and striking green eyes. Her name tag read, "Zahara."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Sully sat up in the chair. He blinked against the overhead light and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"It's okay," he said, clearing his throat. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." He checked his watch. It was a little past midnight.

Sully looked over at the hospital bed. Nate remained still and asleep.

"He's on some pretty powerful meds. I wouldn't expect him to wake for another couple of hours," Zahara volunteered.

Sully smiled at her. When he described the red-headed nurse to Nate, he hadn't expected to actually bump into her again.

"Thank you, for the blanket," he said.

Zahara returned his smile. "We get a lot of hovering mothers, but we don't usually see fathers spend the night."

Sully turned to her. "I'm not—"

"I know," she replied. "Men don't like to show their softer sides, but I think it's an admirable quality. Try to get some sleep. I'll check on you both before my shift ends."

With a wink, she dimmed the lights and slipped out of the room.

Sully moved his chair closer to the bed and grasped onto Nate's hand. It was still unnaturally warm, although a step down from the blazing, pneumonia-induced fever a few hours ago. His breathing was rasped, even with the oxygen hood over his nose.

"You hear that, kid?" Sully said quietly. "Zahara. I told you the nurses here are better on the eyes."

Nate's own eyes remained closed. The shallow rise and fall of his chest translated into a struggled breath.

"Tell you what kid," Sully tried again, holding onto Nate's hand with a stronger grip. "When you get rid of this pesky pneumonia, we'll head to the Keys for a couple of days. I'll even let you pilot the plane."

He studied Nate for a few more seconds, with new worry lines etched into his forehead.

"That's all you need to do. Just get better, okay?"  
>Sully let go of Nate's hand, shifted his weight, and settled into the chair for the long night ahead.<p> 


	5. Play

**mgowriter's note: **Thank you for reading! I love the banter and humor between Nate and Sully in the games and I'm always looking to capture this part of their relationship better. This chapter is the last, and is for LittleSlytherin394.

* * *

><p><strong>Play<strong>

The un-oiled squeak of the sliding porch door brought him reluctantly back to reality. He opened one eye, and listened as footsteps drummed towards him on the wooden dock.

"Sully," the familiar voice called as the shadow of its owner blocked the sun.

"You're cutting into my Vitamin D time," Sully replied as he adjusted his sunglasses.

"Are you drinking a strawberry daiquiri?" Nate asked in amusement.

Sully sat up in the lawn chair. He took a sip of the tropical drink. It was a perfectly blended concoction of strawberries, rum, citrus and sugar.

"In all of its delicious glory," he replied. "I thought you were gone for the day."

"I was," said Nate, "but the plan's changed a little. There's this girl…"

Sully laughed. "There's always a girl. Who are you chasing this time?"

"Her name's Rachel."

"Okay, pretty name," said Sully. "Go on."

"Rachel and I met at the bookstore a couple of months ago. She was looking for a math textbook that was accidently placed in the history section, and we literally sort of…bumped into each other. Anyway, that's what she wants to do—become a math teacher."

Sully raised an eyebrow. "The story's riveting so far."

Nate ignored his comment. "One thing led to another, we went on a couple of dates, and it turns out she's my age, and a senior at Palm Bay High."

Sully sat up straighter in the chair. "What did you tell her about yourself?"  
>"Relax," Nate replied. "I gave her the usual spiel, that I'm in my last year of high school, home schooled, and going off to college in a place far, far away next year."<p>

"Good," said Sully. He took another sip of his drink.

"So here's the thing," said Nate. "She asked me to go to prom with her."

"You're kidding."

"Not kidding." Nate shook his head.

"You said yes?"  
>Nate nodded. "She wants to come over and see the house before we go, you know, probably to make sure I'm not a serial killer or something."<p>

Sully laughed at the idea. "So when is this brainiac girlfriend of yours coming over?"

"Today, now," said Nate as he checked his watch. "I told her I needed an hour to get ready."

"I'm guessing you want me to clear the house so you two lovebirds can have some alone time," said Sully.

Nate shook his head. "Not exactly."

"What do you mean?" Sully asked.

There was a moment of silence. "Well, I kind of told her that you're the one that home schools me, because…you're a college math professor that's on sabbatical, and…you're also my stepdad."

"What?" said Sully. He took off his sunglasses. "How did that even—"

"I had to explain to her why we were living together and I couldn't tell her it's because we hunt for rare treasures and sell them to the highest bidder."

Sully shook his head. He reached for a cigar from his pocket. "Nate, this is not gonna work. You want me to be a math professor?"

"It'll be easy. You're great at acting. Just pretend it's a cover."

"Jesus, kid. Small lies. Small details. Didn't I always say to tell them as little as possible?"

"Sully, I need your help here. What do you say?"

Sully lit his cigar and took a couple of puffs.

"Are we going to have to produce a mother for you, too?"

"She died in a plane crash in the Andes a year ago. That's why you're on sabbatical."

Sully turned and stared.

"After this Rachel visits, we need to have a talk about the definition of 'small lies.'"

. . .

Nate completed another tour around the house, checking his watch as he dusted invisible crumbs off the coffee table. Rachel was due any minute.

Footsteps sounded at the top of the stairs. After a few seconds, Sully came into view.

Nate stopped his pacing. "Sully, you look like yourself."

Sully looked down at his white Havana shirt and grey pants. "How the hell is a math professor on sabbatical supposed to look?"

"I don't know, more…bookish."

"Bookish?" Sully asked.

The doorbell rang, and Nate waved his hand. "Never mind, she's here."

Both men put on big smiles as Nate opened the door.

"Rachel, come in," he said.

A petite girl with auburn hair and a pretty smile stepped into the house.

"Hi," she said tentatively, looked at her hosts.

"I'd like you to meet Sully," said Nate. "My stepfather," he added.

"Thank you for having me," Rachel said as she shook Sully's hand. "I hear you're a math professor?"

"That's right," said Sully.

There was a long pause. Rachel looked to Nate, who cleared his throat and stared back at Sully.

"Why don't you kids get settled in the living room?" Sully suggested. "I'm going to get us something to drink."

Nate led Rachel into the adjacent room.

"You call your stepdad 'Sully'?" she asked.

"Yeah, you know, it's um…a term of endearment," said Nate as he looked back to the kitchen. "You know what? I think I'm going to go help him with the drinks. You like lemonade?"

Rachel nodded.

"Okay, I'll be right back," said Nate. He hesitated for a second, before flashing an awkward smile on his way out of the room.

He walked into the kitchen to seen Sully knocking back a healthy dose of alcohol.

Sully set the glass down, finally noticing Nate. "What are you doing here?" he asked, pouring himself another drink.

"This is already going horribly wrong," said Nate, as he grabbed the glass from Sully's hand and took a drink himself. He grimaced as the back of his throat burned with the liquor.

"C'mon, we can't both smell like booze," said Sully. "She's going to think we're alcoholics."

Nate shook his head as he searched the nearest drawer for a pack of gum. "She probably already thinks we're con men or thieves, or…"

He caught the look that Sully gave him. "Okay, so we are. She knows. We're screwed."

Sully placed both hands on Nate's shoulders. "We're not screwed. It's not over until it's over. Give me that piece of gum."

Nate handed over the packet, and popped a piece into his own mouth. Both men chewed furiously.

"What we're gonna do," Sully said between mouthfuls, "is go out there and convince her that we are who she thinks we are. We're gonna put on the greatest act that ever—"

Sully stopped chewing at the sight of Rachel. He cleared his throat, getting Nate's attention.

Nate quickly stepped in front of the bottle of whiskey.

"Rachel!" his voice came out higher than he anticipated. "I was just getting the lemonade."

"Do you need any help?" she asked, looking between her hosts.

Both Nate and Sully shook their heads. Sully slid towards Nate until his own body hid the liquor bottle behind them. Nate moved towards the fridge and retrieved a glass pitcher.

"You have a lovely kitchen," Rachel commented, noting the open floor plan that allowed plenty of sunlight in.

"Thank you," said Sully. "But it's much more comfortable in the living room. Should we head there?"

He turned to Nate, who nodded and offered Rachel her beverage. He led her away from the kitchen as Sully carefully hid the whiskey on his way out.

. . .

Rachel's eyes brightened at the sight of fireplace in the living room. She walked over to the mantle to examine the picture frames.

"You guys are quite the adventurers," she commented, perusing the pictures that displayed various exotic locations.

Rachel stopped at the last frame. Nate and Sully were dressed in wetsuits on the deck of a boat. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to make out the item between them.

"Is that a…treasure chest? With gold coins?"

Nate's eyes widened as he realized the mistake in leaving the picture up.

"What were you guys doing?" Rachel asked.

Nate laughed uneasily. "That's a…it's a funny story, actually. We were on a cruise. They had this um…photoshoot station. You know, pirates and sea creature costumes. Pretty cheesy stuff. We dressed up as treasure hunters. It made a great Christmas card."

"A big hit that year," Sully confirmed.

Rachel looked up at him. "These are all pretty recent. Do you have any baby pictures of Nate? I'd love to see them."

Sully almost choked on his lemonade. "Baby pictures?"

Rachel nodded.

He looked to Nate, who appeared to be near panicked.

"I'm afraid not," said Sully, lowering his head.  
>"Oh?" Rachel asked.<p>

"You see, Nate had a…serious medical condition when he was a kid. I won't go into the details, but it wasn't pretty. We don't have many pictures of him at that age."

"Oh," said Rachel as her cheeks flushed. Nate stopped his death glare at Sully just as she turned to face him. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's okay," he said, smiling. "I'm just going to talk to Sully for a second, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," said Rachel. "I think I'll go refill my lemonade."

. . .

"What the hell was that?" Nate whispered loudly as soon as Rachel was out of earshot.

"What?" Sully replied. "I didn't have a choice. How else am I going to explain we don't have any baby pictures of you?"

"Great. Now she's going to think I'm some kind of leper."

"Obviously it's cleared up. You look fine."

"Sully," Nate said with exasperation, "that's not the point. She's—"

A scream came from the kitchen before he could finish.

Nate and Sully rushed into the kitchen to find Rachel holding a .44 magnum revolver with trembling hands.

. . .

Seeing the approaching figures, Rachel threw the gun onto the center island of the kitchen.

Sully quickly secured the revolver as Nate placed his arm around the shaking girl.

"I…I was looking for a hand towel. I spilled some lemonade." She gestured wildly at the small spill on the table. What…is that a real gun?"

"No no no, nothing like that," Sully replied quickly. He opened the cylinder to show her the empty spaces from which he had deftly retrieved the bullets just seconds ago. "It's a replica."

Rachel stared at him, unsure of how to react.

"I'm somewhat of a movie buff. In fact, this revolver is an exact replica of Clint Eastwood's gun in the Dirty Harry movies. Did you ever see them?"

She shook her head.

"So…it's not a real gun?"

Sully laughed. "I don't know about other people, but we don't leave loaded guns in kitchen drawers around here."

Rachel visibly sighed in relief. She jumped a second later, when her cellphone rang from her handbag. She excused herself out of the kitchen to answer the call.

Nate and Sully stood rooted to their spots. Sully placed the gun back into the drawer. They waited anxiously for the call to end.

"I'm so sorry, but I have to go," said Rachel when she returned. "That was my mom. I forgot I promised to help her out at the school bake sale this afternoon." She looked down at her watch. "I'm already late."

Nate silently thanked a higher power. "It's not a problem."  
>"Thanks," Rachel replied. She looked around hesitantly, before settling back on Nate. "I'll see you on Saturday?"<p>

Nate nodded.

"It was great to meet you, Mr. Sullivan," Rachel added.

"The pleasure's mine," Sully replied with a smile.

At the sound of her car door closing outside, both men exhaled sighs of relief.

"That was close," said Nate.

Sully retrieved the whiskey bottle and poured himself another drink. "Yeah, too close."

. . .

Sully looked up from his magazine at the sound of Nate's steps descending the staircase. The younger man was dressed in a black tuxedo, complete with carefully shined shoes and a grey bowtie.

"What do you think?" said Nate as he posed at the end of the stairs.

"Not bad," said Sully with approval. He tilted his head to look up at Nate behind his reading glasses. "Who knew you could clean up so nice. Showered and everything?"

"Funny," said Nate. He adjusted the bowtie. "Do these things always feel like they're choking you?"

"Pretty much," said Sully, returning to his reading. "So the car's washed?"

"Yep," Nate replied.

"Tank filled?"

"Uh huh."

"Do you need a lecture on the birds and the bees?"

Nate shook his head in embarrassment. "I think I'll pass."

"Don't drive if you've had too much to drink."

"I won't," he replied. "You know me better than that."

"And don't stay out too late."

"Got it, Sully."

"Or the girl's parents are going to think you kidnapped her."

Nate rolled his eyes. "Okay, Dad," he replied.

Sully removed his glasses and looked up again, this time with a smile.

"Okay, kid. Have fun tonight."


End file.
